Life or Death: Love Musing

Freud’s “Interpretation of Dreams” haunts me

As I awaken fresh each morning with a tune in my head

And yearning in my heart. Penis envy indeed!

No, the heart wants its completion in the form of the beloved.

Awakening in bed alone is a trial when the yearning is so deep.

And the people in your immediate atmosphere so needy.

It is as if the physical and emotional support is necessary

So much so that the lack of it shatters peace.

And threatens long-term survival.

Can one endure through the turbulent storm?

For how long? Will the stress cause interruptions in bodily integrity?

Will the heart break again and again, and will there be enough around to shelter this fragile rose of love?

Love dies in a sea of jealousy.

Retribution beckons. Make him feel the loss too.

Someone else could enter the fray, and take the rose away.

Like ripe fruit, there is a limited shelf life.

Or depression takes hold and disease of a heart begets disease of body

Leading to premature death.

 

It is a crossroads of the heart and soul today.

The choice will determine a lot for all involved.

Will the dream win out? Or will this poem and all writings be a mere epitaph?

Another account of lost love. And cold, embalmed flesh of the beloved.

Untasted and greatly mourned. Too late.

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I WOULD WRITE YOU A LOVE LETTER

Photo on 6-21-14 at 11.54 AM

I WOULD WRITE YOU A LOVE LETTER,
but there’s not enough paper
to write down everything wonderful about you–
the way you laugh, talk, and kiss,
the way you do those little things
that make me so crazy about you.

I WOULD WRITE YOU A LOVE LETTER,
but there aren’t enough pencils
or pens or ink to put down
how you make me feel—
how you make my heart beat faster
and my breath catch whenever we’re close.
how you stay with me
like a love song I can’t get out of my head.

I WOULD WRITE YOU A LOVE LETTER,
but there aren’t enough hours
or days or lifetimes
to describe all you mean to me–
the way you’ve changed my world
and made me dream things
I never dared to dream before.

I WOULD WRITE YOU A LOVE LETTER,
but I can’t.
I love you too much.

So much so that I will sacrifice my own life in order to see you happy
with another. Because true love knows that sacrifice is
part of the deal. True love puts the other’s interest ahead of one’s own.
The author of this has kept this card for many years in the hope of bestowing it on the beloved.
But he has to open the door to welcome it. Still waiting…

SOUL MATE WAITING

Intensity of passion so stiff

Makes roses wilt in a day

Awakening aroused wet, taut

Unbearably unquenched want

Looking at succulent Italian orange trees

But the fruit is out of reach

Unless one drags a tall ladder…

The subject knows the object of her desire

But he is not an object, but beloved.

 

He is a creature of beauty in the night

In my bed, though he knows it not

And has been, for endless lifetimes.

The scientist says infinite loop of continuity

Until circumstances link us in flesh,

Not merely dreams. It may take several lifetimes to connect,

But we will. For the desire of the heart and soul knows no bounds.

Even life and death have no power over true love.

As long as the two are one in spirit. 

 

They will meet in infinity seeking the other

For the soul will not be denied.

“As it is written, so shall it be done.”

                                                        Pharaoh Rameses IIImage